The Thief and the Rogue

by Rachel Donnelly

  “Is that a threat?”

  She came slowly to her feet, smoothing the skirt of her bishop blue gown. “Just a word of caution.”

  His voice grew harsh. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Don’t be a fool Henry!” Phelia’s voice took on the screech of a dull-witted owl. “You’re no match for him on a good day. He’ll chew you up and spit you out. I’ll not have Peter dragged down because you can’t control yourself.”

  “So it was Peter who sent you.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I should have known. The spineless bastard didn’t have the guts to come himself. How does it feel to wear the trousers in the family?”

  “Whatever happens to Peter, affects me.” Phelia’s tone turned hard—uncompromising. “I’ll not stand back and let you ruin him.”

  “Money, it’s always about money with you, isn’t it, Phelia? That’s why you broke it off with Hartley. You discovered he could only bring you a few thousand a year. That’s why you wanted Wallshire. You don’t give a damn about Peter or his reputation. It’s his money you’re worried about.”

  “Of course.” she gave a depreciative sniff. “Why do you think I married him?”

  “God. You’re a cold unfeeling bitch.”

  “You didn’t used to think so,” she purred, gliding toward him. “There was a time when you couldn’t get enough of me. Don’t you remember?” She slid her hands up his chest. Then she pressed her mouth to his in a passionate kiss.

  When she thrust her tongue into his mouth, he pushed her roughly away. “I’m not interested in Peter’s leftovers.”

  “Who are you interesting in? Kay?” Phelia all but spat. “She’s already taken, or hadn’t you noticed? Even when she does admit her marriage is a failure and she starts taking lovers, you won’t be one of them.” Her lip curled into a sneer. “Admit it. You’re in love with her. That’s the real reason you want Wallshire out of the way.”

  He grabbed her by the throat with one hand. “What would you know about love?”

  Her eyes bulged with fear.

  It gave him satisfaction to know he was the one who put it there. He ignored her clawing fingers, and the little gurgling sounds she made in her throat. “You’ve never loved as I have and you never will. If you had, you’d understand why I killed Hartley. You don’t even care why I did it. You’re just happy he’s out of the way—happy you don’t have to live with the guilt.” He released her so suddenly she almost fell to the floor.

  She stumbled backward, holding both of her hands to her throat, gasping for air. “You Bastard!”

  “Go home to your husband, Phelia.” The sight of her twisted his guts. “He needs you more than I do.”

  She gave him a murderous glare then staggered for the door. “This isn’t over Henry!” She flung over her shoulder in a ragged high-pitched squawk.

  She was right.

  It wasn’t over.

  The Duke of Wallshire had yet to be silenced, and then he’d have his beautiful, precious Kay all to himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hunter eased down in the tub with a low groan. It was good to be home. After the long ride from Plymouth every muscle in his body screamed abuse. He had hoped to see Kay right away, but he was too damn filthy. Perhaps it was for the best. He needed time to think about what he was going to say.

  He should have known she’d sneak off the Butterfield Hall as soon as he’d gone. Who could blame her? He’d been an ass to her before he’d left.

  It had taken him a long time to realize why he was angry. It wasn’t because she’d gone to meet Charlie. It was the realization that she loved Galloway so much she was willing to risk her life for him.

  Hunter’s hands clinched into fists. He wanted to be the one she felt such devotion for. Knowing he didn’t deserve it had made him fearful—frustrated beyond measure. He’d never felt that way before. He couldn’t explain it and he sure as hell didn’t know how to deal with it. So he’d done the only thing he could—he’d left, throwing himself into work, trying to forget.

  He still didn’t know how to deal with it.

  He just knew he had to see her.

  Forcing her to marry him was the worst and the best thing he’d ever done. If he hadn’t, he might never have known her. But, it had cost him dearly. He wasn’t certain how to go about fixing it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to fix it. Burying himself in work hadn’t helped. After three months in London, he was no closer to an answer. The morning after, he’d sent her the letter to tell her he was sailing to Boston, he’d realized he had to see her before he left. If he didn’t, he’d be accepting defeat—and that was something he would not do.

  He opened his eyes to find Robert hovering over him. “Bloody hell! Don’t you know not to sneak up on a man like that?”

  Robert grinned, unabashed by the sharp reprimand. “My apologies, Your Grace. Shall I lay out a fresh suit of clothes?”

  “Yes, and then you can leave me in peace. I’m going straight to bed.” He rose from the tub, then grabbed the towel Robert held out for him.

  “Would you like me to put the letter from the Duchess in the study with the rest of your correspondence?’

  The towel stilled in his hands. “What letter?”

  “The one that arrived this morning.”

  Tiny prickles of apprehension crept over him. Kay couldn’t have known of his arrival this soon. Something twisted in his gut. “Bring it to me.”

  By the time Robert returned, he was pacing the room in his dressing gown. As soon as the door opened he strode toward him, snatching the letter from his hand. He paced to the window, breaking the wax seal as he went. When he opened the parchment his great grandmother’s emerald ring slid to the polished wood floor.

  His heart gave a thud, then slowly picked up speed.

  If you’re reading this letter, then my prayers have been answered and you have returned safely from Boston. You will by this time know I have vacated the manor before the agreed time and am traveling abroad. I hope you will forgive my early leave taking, as I saw no point in continuing our charade with you no longer here. Kay

  Hunter could almost feel the color draining from his face. Very slowly he dropped his hand. “When did this arrive?”

  “Not but a half hour ago, Your Grace.”

  His heart gave a hopeful leap. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  He sprinted for the clothes Robert had laid out on the bed, tearing off his dressing gown as he went. “See Beau is saddled and waiting when I get to the stable.”

  “But you haven’t even shaved.”

  “Now, Robert!!!”

  Robert bounded out the door like a greyhound.

  Hunter scrambled into his clothes so fast, he nearly ripped the arse out of his breeches. He was hopping on one foot and trying to plunge the other foot inside the leg, but lost his balance. For several doubtful seconds, he teetered in the air, then slowly, very slowly, he began to fall. Luckily the bed was behind him. After a momentous bounce, punctuated by a loud curse, he was able to lift his legs high enough to pull the trousers on. The next bounce landed him back on the floor. He thrust his arms into his shirt and headed for the door.

  He passed Robert as he charged down the stairs to the foyer.

  Robert’s mouth dropped opened as he stepped aside, no doubt staring at Hunter’s cravat, slopping out of his blue waistcoat, and his wet hair dripping onto the collar of his freshly ironed shirt.

  He didn’t give a damn what he looked like, as long as he prevented Kay from leaving.

  ***

  Kay gazed back at Butterfield Hall with mixture of relief and regret. Her secret would be safe in France, but she would never see Hunter again. Though her heart clutched at the thought of it, she knew she had no choice. She couldn’t risk losing her child.

  Fabian sat across from her in the carriage looking strained. He didn’t believe the Duke would end the marriage once he learned she was with child. There was a time when Kay m
ight have believed him. But not now—not after everything that had happened. If she’d learned anything in the past few months, it was that people were unpredictable. She didn’t dare take the chance.

  “I’m worried about Storm and the foal. She’s not eating properly. If you see Miska will you ask him to have a look at her?”

  Fabian crossed one leg casually over the other. He flicked a piece of lint from his otherwise immaculate, grey trousers. “Is that why you’re not letting me go with you? You’re worried about those damnable mares?”

  “Cora and I will be fine. Besides, someone has to explain this to Uncle Fergus.”

  “Well, at least you were thoughtful enough to have her ride up front with the driver since these are the last few hours we’ll have alone together.”

  Kay shook her head at his pouting, then sighed. “You act as though I’m deserting you forever.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “Of course not. You can come to visit me at Grandmere’s whenever you wish.” Kay offered a weak smile. “When a reasonable time has elapsed, I may even be able to manage a trip to London once or twice a year.”

  “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”

  “Uncle Fabian, please! We’ve been through this.”

  “I know, I know, but listen to what you’re saying.” His tone held vexation. “You can hardly give your child a normal life hiding and skulking about like a fugitive.”

  Laud they had already been through this. Going over it and over it tore her heart in two, but she managed an even tone. “What would you have me do? Give up my own flesh and blood? You know I can’t do that.”

  “Don’t you see, you’re doing the very same thing to him as he did to you—convicting him without a trial.” Fabian’s voice turned pleading. “If you haven’t asked the question, how do you know the answer? In my opinion the odds are in your favor.”

  She shook her head. “Some things just aren’t worth the gamble.”

  Fabian uncrossed his legs. He leaned earnestly towards her, elbows on his knees, hands spread wide. “Not worth the gamble! This is your whole future, and the future of your child. You could be carrying the fourth Duke of Wallshire.”

  Kay laid a protective hand over her gently rounded belly, beneath her red cloak. She turned her head toward the window. “I don’t care,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed in me, but this is one wager I cannot take.”

  Fabian didn’t press the matter further.

  Kay continued to stare out the window without seeing anything they passed. Her stomach rumbled and rolled, unsettled, rebelling at every bump. As the carriage ate up the miles, the queasy grumblings increased. She tried taking deep breathes, but it did little to help. When her mouth began to water, she hollered out the window for the driver to stop.

  Fabian, who’d been dozing, must have awakened when the carriage lurched to a halt. He stumbled out of the carriage behind her. “What is it, Puss?”

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Oh, I’m so dreadfully sorry.” Fabian followed, hot on her heels. “This is all my fault! I shouldn’t have upset you like that. It’s none of my business. Who am I to call you a coward? You’ve waited here bravely for months. You know I’ll love and support you, whatever you choose to do.”

  By then Kay was doubled over at the side of the road, retching miserably, unable to answer. Luckily, they were traveling through a densely wooded stretch in the road with large trees to mask her embarrassment should another vehicle venture past. When she’d finished emptying the contents of her stomach beside a huge oak, she stood up with a long shuddering sigh.

  Fabian handed her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. “I could never be disappointed in you. I admire your courage. What do I know about being a mother,” he babbled. “I’m not even a real father. I’m an uncle, masquerading as a father. Come to think of it, I’m only half a father since Fergus is the other half… although, he behaves more like a mother sometimes.”

  Kay started to laugh. Then she groaned. “Will you stop! It hurts too much when I laugh.”

  “Sorry.” He gave her a shamefaced grin. “Come, let’s get you back to the carriage.”

  “Are you alright, Your Grace?” Cora called down from her perch beside the driver. “Should I come down?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Kay waved her back. “Stay where you are. The sooner we reach Plymouth the better.”

  “I don’t know how you’ll manage the crossing.” Fabian frowned as he handed her inside the carriage. “You’d best keep a bucket beside you at all times.”

  “It’s just nerves. Sailing across the channel will cure everything.” She said the words firmly, hoping to convince herself it was so. But a little voice whispered ‘thief’ in the back of her mind. She leaned her head on the cool leather seat then closed her eyes. “Better a thief than a rogue,” she mumbled grimly beneath her breath.

  The carriage jerked forward. But scarcely a half mile down the road it rolled to a full stop.

  “What the devil is it this time?” Fabian leaned forward in his seat to crane his neck out the window. “What’s going on Harker? Why have we stopped?” “A rider, my lord, blocking the road!” The driver called down.

  Kay sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart began to pound.

  “Well, tell him to move aside and drive on,” Fabian shouted back.

  “I have, my lord, but he don’t appear to be movin’. He don’t look too friendly either, what with that mask and those two pistols he’s got pointing at us.”

  “Gutless, dunderhead,” Fabian muttered, ducking back inside the carriage. “I suppose I shall have to deal with this myself.” He reached under the cushion of the seat to draw forth a wicked looking pistol of his own.

  “What are you doing?” Kay grabbed his arm. “Put that thing away before you get yourself killed.”

  “I’ll have you know, I’m a damn good shot.” He gave her a scandalous wink.

  “Yes. But I am a better one,” Kay said taking the pistol from his hand before he could protest, then she exited the vehicle. Riding bareback wasn’t the only thing Miska had taught her. “Be gone, Sir, or I’ll shoot.”

  The bold devil did not move.

  She aimed and fired.

  A loud explosion cracked the air.

  Cora screamed.

  The Highwayman tore off down the road in a thunder of hooves and a cloud of blue smoke.

  Kay had just managed to scramble back into her seat when she heard Fabian roar, “Drive on!”

  “I think I winged him!” Kay collapsed against the seat across from him as the carriage shot forward, staring at the smoking pistol in her hand.

  “Are you mad?” Fabian wailed. “You could have been killed!”

  Kay smiled broadly. “I told you, I’m a damn good shot.”

  Fabian’s features mirrored amazement. “What if he’d been a better one?”

  “He wasn’t aiming to kill us, only to rob us. It probably hadn’t even crossed his mind that we’d resist. I took him completely by surprise.” She let out a loud hoot of laughter. “I wish you could’ve seen his face! Not that I saw all of it, but the half beneath his mask nearly dropped to the ground.”

  Fabian’s face brightened with pride. “If only Fergus had been here to see it.”

  “If he were, you’d both still be quibbling over the weight of your wagers.”

  “How am I to have a moment’s peace while you’re abroad, knowing you behave so recklessly.” Fabian grabbed the pistol and set it beside him on the seat, then leaned forward to pat her hand.

  Kay smiled ruefully. She could take care of herself. It was them that needed minding.

  By the time they arrived at the Inn in Plymouth, she was exhausted.

  Fabian saw her up to her room, leaving her to rest. The ship they’d booked passage on sailed on the evening tide, so she had only a few short hours to recuperate before they must go down to the docks to board.

  Cor
a helped her out of her gown and loosened her stays so that she could lay down on the bed for a nap. She closed her eyes but couldn’t sleep. The events of their journey rolled round in her mind, particularly the robbery. When the driver had informed them a rider was blocking the road, her heart had leapt with some faint hope that Hunter had returned. She realized now, she’d been holding her breath, not out of fear, but hope.

  She closed her eyes tighter, feeling the moisture gathering beneath her lids. It was an utterly foolish thing to hope for, since his return might mean the loss of her child. Yet a part of her still yearned for him.

  Despite their angry parting and everything that had passed between them, she wanted more than anything to feel his two strong arms around her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The tunnel-like stretch of road grew dark and still, dimmed by tall oaks on both sides. Hunter eased Beau to a trot through the gloom. He couldn’t risk him becoming spooked and losing his seat. It was a long walk to Plymouth. If he was going to catch Kay before she sailed for France, he couldn’t afford any costly mistakes.

  Musty smells tickled past his nose from rotting wood and leaves. The thud of Beau’s hooves echoed in the emptiness. Not a wisp of a breeze or the twitter of a bird disturbed the air.

  Tiny prickles rose on the back of Hunter’s neck.

  Something was not right.

  He eased his hand to the hilt of his sword.

  Halfway through the cavernous passage, where the dappled play of sunlight danced through the leaves on the trees, Beau shied beneath him, sidestepping and snorting.

  A thunderous explosion rent the air.

  Beau reared, sending Hunter flying over his hindquarter. He tucked and rolled, bracing himself for the impact, before landing with a bone-crunching thud that sent the air rushing from his lungs.

  After a quick intake of breath, he came to his feet, spitting dead leaves and cursing.

  Beau pranced in a circle, but like the well-trained beast he was, remained by his master.

  Hunter grabbed the reins to pull him quivering and stomping to the shelter of the trees.